A mear 20 miles from Leeds/Bradford and just down the A1 from the North east (washinton, sunderland, various other northern s**t holes) the picturesque town of Knaresborough sits idle.
The local c**v population is relatively low or at least it was until the council built a ‘Jacksons’ super-market and a huge block of housing association flats. As you can imagine these flats and the ‘Jacksons’ below them provide an ideal habbitat for your average charver with constant supply of White lightning, Fags and shelter for them to run to after they’ve stolen ur grandma’s purse.
The summer is bad for knaresborough due to the new coach trip here from the north east, we are visited by some wonderfully over blinged c***s/chavettes and their various multicoloured offspring sporting the latest McKenzie/Nicholson sportswear and some hideous Burberry variant baseball caps worn at mathmaticaly impossible angles. Fortunately they are only day trippers and the high property price here keeps them at bay, for now.
These tourist c***s can be found hanging about outside jacksons and in the market square asking locals where the f**king castle is. They sit in family groups made up of Lisa-Maree chaver the 16 year old slapper with a black and a white child, mumy charver the overweight grandma of 2 showing off her bingo wings still sunburnt from the trip to benidorm, brother charver clad in his best McKenzie tracksuit/Bright white rebok classics. Father charvers dont exist becuase once they have sired a new bastard child they move on to the next 15 year old baby machine back in sunderland.
after a good spot of idleing in the market square the group manages locate the castle and sit there for another hour passing comments like ‘ha way pet, lens a tab’ and ‘stop yer cryin ye lil gobshite’
then its back to the bus depot and more white lightnig at jacksons and some tabs for the trip home.
all in all the town itself isn’t sprawling with c***s, until summer at least.